


This Inexplicable Gravity

by GhostGarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s09e11 First Born, Fluff, Intimacy, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During and after the events of First Born, Sam and Castiel find themselves pulling towards each other, yearning for the gentle touch of the other. Castiel cannot explain <i>why</i> he feels what he does, but he knows exactly <i>what</i> he feels about Sam Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Inexplicable Gravity

Extracting the last of the grace within Sam took a toll on him, that much was obvious to Castiel, despite his own grace failing him. The human is very strong in every way, body, mind, and soul. Sam Winchester is a blessing to those around him, to the world entirely, and to Castiel himself.

Sam hugged him like a longtime friend, close to his chest with his arms thrown around him to bring him in. After a moment, he returns the hug—and god, it warms his vessel from head to toe. Not only is Sam a wall of strength, he also generates an aura of comfort, radiating from deep within his soul. Castiel feels it, the golden wavelengths tidal wave over him, making him shudder in the man’s arms. Remarkable, a human affecting an angel this much, even a weakened one.

Weeks later, Castiel realizes that nothing has been the same since that hug, since that proximity to Sam and his warm, unshatterable soul.

He finds himself seeking out Sam’s presence when he is in the area, in the bunker. Sam’s room is down the hall, past Dean’s room and the wing’s bathroom they all share. It’s out of his way, there’s no believable reason he’d be down there, but he still finds himself hovering near Sam’s doorway. He knows it would be classified as ‘creepy’ by either Winchester, but when Sam catches him in the act, he just looks Castiel over before turning away, retreating into the depths of his room and leaving the door open. Like an invitation.

Castiel follows him in, trailing him across the room. Sam doesn’t look back, but he knows he’s there. “What’s up, Cas?”

“I was wondering if you required any assistance in research,” Castiel replies. It’s not quite what he came there for, but once he spotted the pile of books on Sam’s desk, the answer came quickly and easily.

“Hm? Oh,” Sam says, glancing back to Castiel before seating himself at the desk situated in the corner of his room. “I’d appreciate it. Pull up a chair.”

They sit together for hours, well into the night, looking up runes and rites and rituals that may assist them for their troubles. As much information as they can find about the First Blade and knights of Hell, which to say isn’t much.

Castiel thinks he may be imaging things, but he notices that Sam doesn’t scoot his chair to the way other end of the desk like Dean would. They work side by side, shoulders inches away from each other, elbows bumping and brushing often. He tries to overlook the fact that their fingers brush together often when exchanging books and notes, and that those touches linger more and more each time.

And he definitely underestimates how amazing it feels, the contact with Sam. His mind is immediately transported back to the memory of the hug. Something so simple but had such an impact on him. He can still feel Sam’s soul, shining radiantly within the man of Letters. It’s so warm, so comforting, and Castiel wishes he could stay there forever, right in that chair.

But he has to leave and let Sam get the sleep he requires, which still isn’t enough compared to what he should be getting, and it makes Castiel worry. Sam is incredibly important to the fate of the world, and incredibly important to him, he decides.

Despite separating for the night, the next few days are littered with more touches, growing more and more casual and bold as the time goes on. They’re innocent, light but affectionate. There’s an unconscious need to be near each other, and Castiel starts to feel the human urge to touch and be touched, even if in just the simplest of ways.

He can’t help but to let his fingers brush through Sam’s hair, tucking a strand behind his ear when the man is working. Sam merely thanks him and keeps on, but Castiel sees the light blush across his cheekbones.

Sam gives him more pats on the back, letting his hand linger between his shoulder blades or on his shoulder. It isn’t until Sam places a hand on Castiel’s back and slowly drags it down his spine that he realizes that they’ve gone past the point of what would be considered casual friendly touching by human standards.

He’s still insanely hesitant and cautious about every touch, despite being sure that Sam is seeking more intimate and sensual touches. Castiel keeps to simple gestures—brushing the hair behind Sam’s ear, their fingers brushing while researching, standing and sitting closer than they need to be.

In his bed, nearly nightly, he thinks of the hug, and how his head fit perfectly into the crook of Sam’s neck and how their bodies felt perfectly fitted against each other. The thoughts haunt him like a friendly ghost, draping over him like blanket in the night.

That night he dreams of a different life with Sam. One full of hugging and light, gentle touches whenever they please, sweet kisses on the lips and fingers trailing across exposed skin. It makes him wake up breathless, the insatiable need burning in his chest when he realizes that he simply cannot stay away.

He approaches Sam the next morning, in the kitchen where they normally start the day. Sam’s hair is in a horrendous state of bedhead, but it makes Castiel’s plan so much sweeter.

After casually getting himself a mug of steaming hot coffee, Castiel turns to Sam, bringing up his fingers to brush a strand of errant hair behind his ear. He keeps his fingers there, cradling the side of Sam’s head and the man presses into the touch, eyelids fluttering a little and the daily tension eases from his face ever so slightly.

Hazel eyes meet cobalt blue ones, and Castiel has to lick his lips to wet them in order to ask the question. “May I?”

He’s not even sure if Sam understands the question, and he’s not sure if he should continue to clarify.

But Sam nods. Ever so slightly, shakily. But he nods.

Castiel leans in, rolling up onto the balls of his socked feet and presses his lips to Sam’s. It’s something so soft, so warm, and something so gentle that he wouldn’t have previously believed he was capable of. He’s a warrior, meant to destroy and protect, strong and willing to be harsh when the times require.

Their breathing syncs, and Castiel can feel Sam gently smiling against his own lips. He pulls Sam down by the shirt, refusing to stand on his toes to continue, consuming Sam’s lips and mouth hungrily. His other hand grips Sam’s hair roughly, earning a pleased gasp from Sam, hot breath against his jaw before they crash back together.

Sam is left breathless at the end, having to place a broad hand on Castiel’s chest as a warning to slow down. Their foreheads rest together, breaths intermingling between them. Castiel feels Sam’s soul radiating again, much more strong than he has ever felt before, and for a moment, Castiel wonders if it is because of him that Sam shines even more brightly.

They can’t keep their hands off each other from then on, be it tender gentle touches sprinkled throughout the day or their lips moving ceaselessly against each other in intimate moments of the night.

Now Castiel is one hundred percent aware of this pull, this inexplicable gravity he feels towards Sam Winchester, the boy with the golden soul, this need to touch him and be close. And it all began with the hug.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on Tumblr @ GhostGarrison


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